


Sea-Stained

by jamiesfreckles



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: A Novel By Erik, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Ice Cream Parlors, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Tiny Misunderstandings, What Not To Do When People Notice Your Vaguely Voyeuristic Tendencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesfreckles/pseuds/jamiesfreckles
Summary: Erik's just supposed to be picking up a few extra shifts at the ice cream parlour. He's not supposed to spend those shifts staring at the boy who sits in the exact same spot every time, orders the exact same ice cream, and smiles like the goddamn sun.But really, if the universe didn't want Erik to be distracted all summer, then it shouldn't have approved the creation of someone with such a pretty laugh.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 108





	Sea-Stained

**Author's Note:**

> This is by no means a masterpiece, but it is a very indulgent piece of sweetness that I had a lot of fun writing, and I hope you have a lot of fun reading it, whomever you may be. No warnings barring a few swear words! Thank you! <3

“Oi, creep!”

Erik almost dropped the stack of waffle cones. He caught them at the last minute, slotting the wobbly tower into their place in the plastic stand on top of the counter. Normally he was more alert than that, but Mia had come up silently on his right side and jolted him out of his mesmerised daze, and now she was grinning like a fiend from the other side of the display case. 

Erik took a minute to wipe down the counter that was spotlessly clean, and then he rearranged a few syrup jars that didn't need rearranging, and then he brushed his hands calmly on his little white apron while his sister tapped her foot impatiently. 

“Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away. You’d think after years of being related, you might have figured that out by now. But I guess there’s no use trying to get anything through your thick skull, is there?”

Erik stopped fiddling with his apron and glared at her. At twelve, she was so much shorter than him, but _thankfully_ the display case wasn’t as bulky as it could have been, so her triumphant smirk was perfectly visible over the top of it. 

She stood up on the tips of her purple-painted toes, her pineapple flip-flops hanging off her heels, and stuck her tongue out at him. There was a pair of sparkly gold sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. They held eye contact, not blinking, and it became a game of the silent treatment that Erik usually would have won. But it had been a long morning, and Erik gave in easily with a groan. 

“What do you want, Mia? I’m busy.”

“I want ice cream, and a nicer brother,” she chirped, skipping closer and hauling herself up onto the counter. Her feet swung in the air, and she laughed when he squawked loudly enough to draw the attention of two customers over by the jukebox. 

“Hey, counters aren’t for sitting on! And I just cleaned that!”

“Ow! Don't throw things! Do you want to keep this job or what?”

“Do _you_ want me to keep this job?” Erik demanded, scowling. But he ruffled her hair apologetically, reaching for the packet of chocolate flakes that had bounced harmlessly off her shoulder. He stopped, the crinkly packet still caught in his hand, and eyed her shoulder with some misgivings. It was hot out, sure, but she was barely a teenager, and there were boys from her class around—Erik wasn’t one to judge, but surely she should have been wearing more than a vest top?

Mia narrowed her eyes, swinging round to cross her legs on top of the counter, where she could glare at him properly. “Shut up, Erik.”

“You know, I haven’t actually said more than ten words together since you got here, kid.”

“You know what I mean! I’m not a kid, and Krystalinda said I can wear what I like! She also said that if anyone stared at me or made me uncomfortable, she’ll kick them where it hurts. It’s a beach, Erik. There’s a lady lying on a towel down there wearing nothing but a bit of string.” Mia huffed, pushing out her chin. “You’re just jealous because you have to stay inside all day and wear an apron, even though it’s one hundred degrees out there.”

It was only twenty-five degrees and summer had barely started, but in Cornwall, that was pretty much the same thing as being wrapped in quilts and bundled through the boiling pits of hell itself. Erik couldn’t deny it; that _was_ the reason why he was sulking, but it was only half the reason. Through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows of _Marina’s Ice Qream Parlour,_ Erik could see clear skies with just a hint of cotton on the horizon, golden sands speckled with tourists, and an endless stretch of azure seas. 

But the fact that he had to look through the windows to see it all kinda dampened the effect. 

Erik whined, slumping against the counter. Marina’s Ice Qream Parlour was a white stone building on the seafront, topped with a pinkish, scalloped roof and decked out with nautical bunting. The name made absolutely no sense to Erik, but it was a nice place, although the massive plastic mascot out the front was terrifying; it was supposed to be a mermaid wearing a crown, but there was something very unnerving about the eyes and the way it shivered in the breeze. 

Even with the presence of a demonic mermaid, though, Erik knew he could have picked worse places to work. Marina was a good boss, and fair to a fault, and it wasn’t her fault that her only other reliable employee had some kind of weird family business going on that meant Erik had to cover her shifts this week. But he sure as hell felt like blaming all of them anyway. 

“You’re being pathetic,” Mia said, very nearly knocking his prone head with her knee. “Summer’s only just started and you’re already moping. I’m not spending time with you if you’re going to be miserable all the time, and I’ll tell Frysabel that you need more attention.”

Erik squinted at the glossy white counter, cheek squished against the back of his hand. “Are you threatening to tell on me?”

“I’m threatening way worse than that,” Mia promised sweetly. “You know Frysabel wants to bond, and she’ll jump at the chance to have a big, sappy heart-to-heart about how you’re feeling.”

Erik reached out and snatched her ankle, squeezing it tightly in warning, but he let go before she could do more than squeal. 

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been enjoying the view here," Mia added.

‘The view’ chose that moment to laugh from one of the outside tables. It was bad timing; Erik was conditioned to look up like a drooling dog whenever that laugh filtered in through the open door. And looking up meant he had to pick his head up off the counter, quite without his permission, and witness Mia’s smug look. Smugness usually lead to Erik acknowledging the fact—usually internally—that she was right on the money, which never ended very well for either of them. 

More stumbling little laughs floated in through the door. Erik cursed the heat; it was the only reason why the door had been open at all the last few days, in an attempt to coax the breeze in. He found himself transfixed on the head of glossy hair that the laugh belonged to, crammed into one of the chalk-painted picnic benches outside and surrounded by squabbling people. When he laughed again, Erik twitched.

Mia snickered into her palm. “Pavlov’s bell has nothing on that sound.”

“Stop taking my psychology notes, I knew that was you!” Erik huffed and ran a hand through his hair, feeling warm. “Alright, brat. What’s it gonna take for you to keep your mouth shut about this?”

“I want his name first, before I name my terms.”

Erik pursed his lips. He didn't know much about the boy, just that his name was El, and he came by Marina’s fairly often, always surrounded by the same few friends. He never came to the till, but he always ordered a Chop ‘n’ Churn, with a plain cone, and a healthy helping of rainbow sprinkles. Erik might have seen one of his friends pass it over to him a few times, just by chance, and the order never changed no matter how many times the group came by, but everyone else’s did. 

“His name’s El,” Erik said. “That’s all you’re getting. Now scram.”

Erik wasn’t a creep. It wasn’t weird to know that. He knew El in a vague sort of sense; they went to Truro College together, although they weren’t in the same classes. It seemed like both of them were in their second year though, so El couldn’t have been older than seventeen. 

He was tall and fairly slim, but deceptively strong; a fact that was proven in their first year, when Erik slipped outside of sociology and nearly fell down a flight of stairs, only to be yanked back at the last minute by a steely arm around his waist. Erik had made some kind of strangled noise, and his feet had actually _left_ the ground before he was dragged a few feet backwards. When he could breathe again, he had tipped his head back and found El holding him tightly, quirking an eyebrow at him as if to say, _are you alright?_

Erik had fled without saying anything. Not because he didn't want to talk to El, but because El didn't know him, and it had been a long time since Erik let anyone know him. He had joined the college two months late and had yet to find a friend, and if his brain had been working properly at the time, he might have put two and two together and jumped at the chance to make one. 

But he didn't. Things had been rough, and college was hard, and El had been staring down at him with big, concerned eyes, so Erik did the only thing he could do and fled the scene. He wasn’t self-conscious, or shy, but back then he was so socially awkward, as Mia would say, that he could make a constipated slowworm look like a confident, well-adjusted creature. 

That had been their only interaction since, barring a few hesitant smiles in the corridor when they passed each other. So, no, he didn't really know the boy. He knew that he was called El, having heard it called down the corridor by his many friends and a few kind teachers, and he knew that El took drama class, and that he wasn’t deaf but he did speak using sign language, and that he had this really nice smile. 

Erik bit his tongue. In retrospect, he might have known a little more about El than he let himself admit. 

“Earth to Erik! Hello? God, you suck at being subtle.”

He was staring again. Erik jerked away and picked up a dish-cloth, swiping it over a clean spot on the counter just to have something to do while Mia rolled her eyes. The glass display case was sparkling, and the tables had all been wiped down, not a drop of melted vanilla in sight. The people at the table had left at some point, so there was nobody in the store to judge him except from Mia, but that was more than enough to put him on the defensive. 

“It’s not creepy,” Erik insisted, even though Mia hadn’t said anything yet. But the raised eyebrow and the slight smirk said it all. “It’s not! He just laughs really loudly, that’s all, and it’s distracting.”

“I’m sure that’s all.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you to scram, brat.”

Mia kept on smirking. She hopped down from the counter and perused the display case for a solid minute, lips pursed thoughtfully, before jabbing her finger somewhere in the middle of the bottom row. Erik peered in at the open carton of bright cherry-flavoured red ice cream. He knew the labels off by heart by now, and the name was both very fitting and a warning: Tempered Tantrum. 

“I’m glad it’s not just me that sucks at being subtle,” Erik said, amused despite himself. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but it seems like it runs in the family.”

“Three scoops, and I won’t say anything about you being creepy on the way out of here. I’ll even bring you some sand back from the beach, since you’re stuck here.”

“Two scoops, don't worry about the sand, and you take a cardigan with you.” 

Mia pushed her sparkly glasses very slowly up her nose. Erik twitched. When the silence persisted, and a customer slunk through the door with a tinkle of the bell, Erik sighed and reached for a waffle cone. 

El’s pretty laughter softened the sting of losing.

*

It was far too hot to exist today, but Erik didn't have a choice. He stared longingly over the counter, through the windows that ran along the front of the Parlour, and silently urged the sea to rise up over the harbour and sweep him away. Never mind that it was calm out there today, or that the water was probably halfway to warm. He had a horrible feeling that he smelled a bit, what with all the sweating he’d been doing that afternoon, and a bit of water couldn’t hurt even if it wasn’t ice-cold like he wanted.

He had tried melting into a puddle of complete uselessness that morning, but Marina must have sensed his intentions from Devon, or wherever she was this time. She was something of a traveller when she wasn’t actively being the boss, and whenever she was absent from the Parlour, she miraculously never had phone signal unless she needed to give Erik or Michelle a gentle order. One had pinged through that morning, out of the blue. Erik had read the long message thanking him for working extra hours this week through his splayed fingers before groaning and stumbling into the shower. 

Now it was half past three, he still had ages left of his shift, and he was regretting not slipping in the shower and conveniently breaking his leg. 

“Hey, how much for a scoop of Frizzwhizz?” 

Erik tore his eyes away from the sea-view and warily eyed the group of teenagers smearing up the display case. Some of them were giggling, and the main boy already looked proud of himself. That never bode well. 

“Two-thirty, but I’ll make it a fiver if you make some kind of pun.”

The boy deflated with a scoff, tossing his head. His immaculate fringe didn't move an inch, held in place with a crap-ton of stiff, crispy gel. 

“Way to take the fun out of life,” muttered one of the girls. 

Erik smirked down at them briefly before adopting a polite, genial smile. “So what’ll it be, kids?”

The teenagers eventually ambled out of the Parlour with the kind of arrogance that came only to those with pocket money and a number of detentions in their belt. Erik dropped his polite smile as soon as the bell tinkled. He’d been told not to leave the door open, because it invited wasps and curious bugs, so the heat trapped him the minute the door slid back into its place in the frame. 

His phone pinged from the pocket of his apron. Erik cast a furtive look about before deciding he didn't care anyway, and typed in his password. Mia’s sleeping, drooling face lit up the screen, and he grinned on reflex. She had no idea that was his contact picture for her, and that made it all the more brilliant. 

_m-one wants 2 kno if u have enough shampoo._

Erik grimaced at the grammar, but knew better than to argue. Mia would only send something even more unintelligible back, to make a point. 

_Got shampoo, no conditioner. Stop calling her that._

M-one was shorthand for ‘Mum number one,’ which usually meant Krystalinda. Frysabel was, unsurprisingly, M-two, and three guesses what it stood for. The sight of the little nickname on his phone made his gut clench, and sour thoughts invaded his tired mind. 

_Fine. Lady Raising Us says do u want more strawberry yoghurts._

Guilt crawled up his throat. Erik typed out an affirmative and locked his phone, pocketing it again. It buzzed two more times, but he ignored it, suddenly grateful for the new wave of customers that staggered through the door. It took his mind off things, but the guilty feeling didn't vanish. 

It wasn’t that he didn't like Krystalinda, or Frysabel. They were nice. They had a comfortable home and they cooked healthy dinners, and nobody had raised their voice yet. They doted on Mia, so it was basically impossible for him to dislike them. There was none of that tense, horrible atmosphere that they had endured in their first few foster homes, and Erik knew they’d gotten lucky. He just didn’t want to push it. 

“Do you sell Fanta?” 

Erik pushes his thoughts aside and settled into his mind-numbing work. People came through in flurries, complaining about the price of Solar Flairs even as they took handfuls of the little green ice lollies out of the freezer. He oozed syrup on top of ice creams, cleaned up several spills, and almost wept when he was presented with a fifty pound note. 

“We’re running low on Buff-Buff,” Erik said, when Michelle finally strolled out of the back-room. “And if you keep leaving me to man the whole store while you sweet-talk your boyfriend, I’ll put your whole collection of Mary Oliver in the freezer.”

Buff-Buff was a brand new, bright pink ice cream that looked sickly sweet, and it had emptied out pretty quickly. The only good thing about working in an ice cream parlour was the free ice creams every hour, and the tasting sessions he and Michelle held every evening, when they got a new product in. But there was no chance he was sinking his teeth into Buff-Buff. He’d tried some last night and spat it out straight away while Michelle laughed her tinkling laugh. 

“Kai’s my fiance, remember?” Michelle corrected him, pink-cheeked. “Not my boyfriend. You always forget, and it drives me round the bend!” 

Erik rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don't sweet-talk your _fiance_ while you’re supposed to be working.”

“There, now, was that so tricky? Here, I’ll watch the store while you get… unsticky.”

Erik glanced down at his apron and grimaced. He was covered in syrup and melted ice cream, and Marina was a good boss, sure, but she did expect a certain level of cleanliness from her employees. He climbed off the bar-stool, tugging on a lock of Michelle’s blonde swishy hair as he passed and ducking her playful swat. 

The door to the staff room was already halfway open when the bell chimed, and that laugh rang through the room. He turned to see the party of El’s friends making their way to the till. There was a short girl in a red sundress swearing viciously as she elbowed a tall, pouty man, and they seemed to be the source of all the amusement. Erik couldn’t see El, but there were a few of them packed together, and he could easily be hidden in the middle, and Erik had definitely heard the laughter. 

Erik had never moved so fast in his life. One minute he was standing in the doorway to the staff room, apron already partly untied, and the next he was skidding across the room to slide behind the counter. 

Michelle gave him a bemused look, leaning in to say, “You do know I can handle this, don't you? I’m quite good at my job. I know I’ve been wrapped up in Kai, but really, I’m no slob!”

“Calm down,” Erik hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s only an hour until my shift ends, so I might as well help you and clean up after, that’s all.”

The swearing on the other side of the display case tapered off, but none of them got any quieter. They hummed and squabbled over the ice cream, arguing about syrup. Erik tried his best to look casual, leaning an elbow against the counter while he waited for them to make their choice. It was possible he slipped a bit and almost knocked himself out, but Michelle kept her giggles quiet. 

“Okay, are we ready darlings? Let’s do this!” The exclamation sounded grand falling from the mouth of the broad, pouty man that always skipped through the doors, arms slung over his various companions. Erik had seen him around a lot. He was pretty sure his name was Sylvia, or something, but it was hard to pay attention to anything beyond the shimmering metallic red swimsuit, tucked into high-waisted shorts. 

Michelle giggled. “Oh, Sylv, it’s only ice cream, no need to get excited. But you should try the Buff-Buff, I think you’ll be delighted!”

“Anything for you, Michelle, honey. Anyone else want to change their order?”

Erik scrunched his nose up. There were two other girls hanging back, one dressed in green flared trousers, and one blowing pretty bubbles of apple-flavoured gum. Sylv and the short, red one were still arguing. 

But the one person he actually wanted to see wasn’t there. 

Ignoring the chatter and laughter, Erik shuffled sideways until he was slouched against the counter, peering around the group to stare out of the front windows. And there he was. There was a book open on the picnic table that he’d commandeered, and his face was hidden in a bag, looking for something, but Erik could tell it was El. It was impossible not to recognise the silky hair, flustered by the sea breeze.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of his nose. Erik reared back in shock. 

“Wakey wakey, darling,” Sylv said, his voice glowing with amusement. 

“Uh, what?” Erik blinked rapidly, shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“Aww,” Sylv said. “I can see that. You’re Erik, right?”

Erik nodded warily.

“Thought so! See, Veronica? I told you this was our little stalker.”

The girl in red stomped closer and peered up at him, her long, tight plaits swinging around her face. “I guess so.” She tipped her nose up. “He looks more interesting from further away, that’s all.”

Erik’s mouth fell open in shock. “Hey! I’m plenty interesting.” He frowned, uncertainty pulling at his tone. “And what do you mean by stalker?”

Sympathy bathed Sylv’s expression. Michelle slotted an ice cream cone into place, wielding her scoop with expert precision, and valiantly tried to look like she wasn’t listening in. But it was pointless; Erik had seen her wearing the same look when Marina was talking on the phone in the back room, arguing with some Carnelian guy about health and safety regulations. 

“Oh, honey,” Sylv said, with a little laugh. “You’re not exactly subtle. Windows go both ways, you know, and you’ve been staring through them ever since we first got here.”

Erik spluttered, feeling his cheeks grow hot. He glanced quickly at El, who had abandoned his bag and was squinting curiously at the door now, probably wondering why all his friends were taking so long. Then he looked quickly away when Sylv tittered. 

“Huh.” Veronica’s eyes narrowed further. “Do we need to be worried? Because El’s a good person and he doesn’t need weirdos hanging off him all summer.”

Sylv made some sort of noise in his throat, but Veronica was on a roll. 

“I’m sure you’re harmless, even if you have dreadful fashion taste,” she continued, eyeing his blue hair like it was contagious. “But if I have to threaten you, I will.”

It wasn’t Sylv that came to his rescue, and nor was it Michelle, the nosy traitor—it was the blonde girl. She popped her bubble gum and let out a soft ‘oh!’ as though she’d only just clocked the unfolding chaos. Then she patted her friend on the arm and hurried over, her skirts swishing as she walked. 

“Veronica, what on earth are you doing?”

Veronica grunted as she was pulled back; she reminded Erik of one of those yappy little dogs that thought they were German Shepherds. Except the yappy little dogs were usually more bark than bite, and Veronica looked like she could chew off his arm if she wanted to. 

“I was just talking,” Veronica complained, but she went willingly. 

“I’m dreadfully sorry!” chirped the blonde girl. “I’m Serena, and this is Veronica, and this is Sylv. And behind me is Jade.” Her voice softened ever so slightly, before she cleared her throat and carried on. “I think you deserve our names if you have to suffer Veronica’s behaviour.”

There was something familiar in the carefully-hidden exasperation. Something that Erik knew well.

“Younger sibling?” Erik guessed, faintly commiserating. 

“I’m the older sibling, actually!” Veronica snapped, sounding indignant. 

“It’s simply hard to tell sometimes, because she doesn’t act like it,” Serena slid in sweetly. Sylv laughed at them both; it was a bright, loud sound that shook the very walls. “I’ll take them outside now, and we’ll stop bothering you. You must be ever so busy in this weather!”

“Not at this hour, Sylv, but that’s so sweet of you to say,” Michelle interrupted. “Erik, did we use the last of the Buff-Buff yesterday?”

Erik opened his mouth to snap at her, to tell her that he’d already explained the Buff-Buff situation, and that they only got it yesterday, so of course not, before he caught sight of her knowing look. Sylv was still standing at the counter with a bright, curious look in his eyes, and Jade showed no signs of going anywhere. She wasn’t joining in with the interrogations and the threats either, but that might not last. 

“We have some in the store-room, I think.” Erik skirted round her and threw her a relieved grin, before slinking into the back, shame-faced. He’d never run from a fight before. But that wasn’t really a fight, was it? It was more of an awkward confrontation, and he had a gold medal in running from them. 

Erik groaned, slumping against the closed door. The back room was a cluster of freezers and a cramped kitchen, and there was a window set into the wall, but the little blinds were drawn down. 

“Windows go both ways, Erik,” he muttered to himself, tipping his head back until he knocked against the door. “Shit.”

Was that why El never came inside to order? Was he doing his best to avoid the idiot that wouldn’t stop staring at him? Was Erik one of the weirdos he worried about whenever Mia left the house? Fuck, he was going to need a new job.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and sent Michelle a text. _Buff-Buff or no Buff-Buff, I’m not coming back out there until they’re gone. Thanks._

Sylv laughed from the shop, the noise slipping in under the door to mock him. He didn't sound mocking, in all fairness, but Erik’s brain tended to grab the nearest mildly uncomfortable thing it could find and twist it until it ached. 

Anxiety was a bitch like that. 

His phone buzzed in his hand. Michelle’s contact picture flared on the screen; a close-up of her surprised face, ice cream smeared on her cheek. _Don't worry about it, Erik, I’ll give them all a scoop of Electric Light! But you have to tell me all about it, or you’re closing up the store tonight!_

Erik scoffed and tucked his phone out of sight. Then he pulled it back out and sighed, typing out a message for Mia to tell her he would be home late tonight.

*

Seagulls chittered on one of the picnic tables. They were fighting over an old piece of wafer that had been missed during the last sweep, and Erik had no plans to stop them. He swung the mop around in a half-circle, humming under his breath. The song was some Irish jig, and it’d been stuck in his head all week thanks to Mia and her infernal taste in music. He swore she only picked CD’s from that second-hand store that she thought would piss him off. There was no way anyone actually liked this shit.

Marina’s Ice Qream Parlour was empty. Most of the chairs were upside down on top of the tables, and the windows had been cleaned until they sparkled. The place smelled of lemon cleaner. Erik didn't mind the closing shift, and he owed Michelle, so he wasn’t in a place to complain anyway. Anything to pay her back for offering an escape from Sylv and his merry band of threatening women. 

He danced around the bucket of soapy water, still humming, and swung the mop again, only to yelp and jump back at the sight that greeted him. His foot collided with the bucket; sudsy water slopped over the side. He clutched the mop tightly like a weapon and blinked, hard, but the image in front of him didn't fade. 

El raised one of his hands rather sheepishly, giving him a cautious wave. While Erik set about re-starting his heart, El took in the spotless Parlour with the air of someone a bit lost, and politely waited for him to stop choking on his own breath. 

Apparently, the Parlour wasn’t quite as empty as he thought. 

“Uh, hi?” Erik said, when he could speak again. “How long’ve you been standing there?”

_Hello, E-R-I-K._ El’s face crinkled in a smile. _Not long._

Erik could have sworn he put the sign over to ‘closed’ when he came back in with the litter from the outside tables, but clearly not. Clearly not, because El was standing there in the middle of the room, smiling like the goddamn sun. 

“That’s good.” Erik released his death-grip on the mop, propping it against the nearest table, and cleared his throat. “Did you, uh—did you need something?”

El’s face fell a little. He dropped his hands and chewed on his lip, and Erik’s heart leapt in his chest. He didn't like that face. Well, he liked that fact, a lot, actually, but he didn't like that sad expression, or the fact that he’d put it there. He held up both hands and shook his head a little frantically. 

“Not that I’m trying to get rid of you or anything.”

_I can leave if you’re busy._

Erik shook his head again. “I’m not busy. Just closing up, but I’m almost done. You can sit, or we can sit together, or you can stand there I guess, or… or whatever.”

He shrugged like it didn't matter to him, but it was a bit too late to pretend like the few conscious brain cells he owned were doing anything but screaming or swooning. Especially because El bit his lip and smiled rather sweetly. 

_I can wait over here until you’re free to talk. Unless you want help?_

Erik’s eyes went a little wide, but he managed to shake his head. “Nah, it’s fine. Make yourself at home.”

‘At home’ turned out to be on the counter, feet swinging idly back and forth. For once, Erik couldn’t dredge up the irritation to tell him to get down. He made quick work of the rest of the floor, and put the last of the chairs up. He checked the till and all the locks, and typed in the security code before ushering El out of the door. 

It was just gone five, and the sky was a field of colour. Clouds swelled like pumpkins in vague rows, tinged orange with the drifting rays of sunlight. It was still warm, but Erik pulled his hoodie over his head anyway, shivering. He finished locking the door and pocketed the keys, turning in surprise when El tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

_You forgot something._

Erik furrowed his brow, glancing around. There was no helpful neon sign to point him in the right direction, so he settled for crossing his arms over his chest and arching an eyebrow at El.

_Your apron._

“I don't take my apron home with me.”

El could not have looked more amused if he tried. _Could have fooled me._

Which was when Erik felt the knot at the small of his back, and glanced down to find his rumpled apron still wrapped around his waist, half-tucked in the fabric of his hoodie. He swore under his breath and reached back to wrestle with the knot while El chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Christ, who the fuck _tied_ this?”

He vaguely registered the sound of footsteps, chin ducked as he fumbled with the knot, and then fingers brushed his own. Erik froze. El hovered behind him, batting his hands away gently, and then diligently worked at the knot. With his head ducked like this, the nape of his neck was bare and tipped up, his blush clearly visible. El must have been able to see it. 

But Erik didn't move away. He was tantalisingly close, and he could feel the warmth all up his spine even though they were barely touching, and this was all so weird and out of the blue, but he didn't move away. Not until El finished untying the knot and slid the apron out around Erik’s waist, moving to stand at his side. He proffered it with a tilted head, and it was somewhat gratifying to see that he looked a bit pink too. 

“Thanks.” Erik rolled up the apron and stuffed it in his pocket, taking off at a brisk walk. El’s stumbling footsteps caught up to him quickly, and Erik cleared his throat, eyes on the cobbles. “So what did you want to talk about? I’m assuming you didn't just drop by to watch me clean.”

A head-shake and a hand on his elbow later, and Erik found himself being tugged towards the seafront. He stared at the back of El’s head, letting himself drift along and wondered what the hell had happened while he hid in the store-room. 

St Ives was a bustling place in the hot summer days, but as the afternoon cooled off, the streets began to clear. It didn't take long to find an empty bench overlooking the sea, ringed by a low stone wall and a few errant pigeons. El shooed them away and plonked himself down, patting the seat beside him. He still hadn’t explained a thing. 

“Alright then,” Erik said, and sat down. 

_How much sign language do you know?_

_Enough._ Erik shrugged when El stared at him curiously. “I’m better at listening than speaking though. My foster mum teaches a course at the college, and I tag along sometimes.” He grinned sharply, his stomach jolting when El zeroed in on his mouth. “I’m a fast learner.”

One of the pigeons hopped closer, intent on inspecting their shoes. 

_That’s good,_ El signed. _Because I came to say sorry._

“You did?” Erik blinked at him. “Why?”

El didn't seem to know what to do with that. He frowned, hesitant, and then pushed on. _S-Y-L-V told me that they ambushed you. You didn't deserve that, and I wish I had known, so I could tell them to stop. My friends are just protective of me, I guess._

He recalled Veronica’s shrewd stare and Sylv’s knowing smugness with a wince, and then chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll say. I bet that must be nice, though, having friends like that. Veronica looked like she was planning on killing me.”

El made a face like he knew how that felt, and then laughed. And God, it was so much nicer to listen to his laughter close up, rather than straining to hear it through the windows. It sounded free, like ocean waves and the birds that flew over them. 

“Huh,” Erik said softly. 

El tipped his head again. _You look like you want to say something._

“Not really. I was just thinking that you don't have to say sorry for your friends. I’m the one that should be apologising, anyway. I can’t really blame them for being protective. I didn't mean to, but I acted like a—”

El cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. _No, it was fine._

“Yeah, but all the staring, you must have been…”

Erik trailed off, staring at El’s hands. El stared down at them too, an expression of deep betrayal on his face, as though they had moved without permission. And maybe they had. Hell, if Erik hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have caught it, so clearly it was partly absent-minded, but he _had_ caught it—and wasn’t that the problem in the first place, that he couldn’t stop looking? 

“Could you,” Erik said, after a long, quiet moment, “repeat that?”

El sighed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. _I said I liked it. I liked you looking at me._

Erik opened his mouth, and then closed it again. When finally he pushed a word out of his mouth, it was a strangled, lilting sound: “Good.” 

And oh, he didn't mean to say it, but it was better than watching El’s face crumble into anxiousness. The pigeon hopped even closer and pecked at the ground. Erik begged it silently to make some sort of scene, just to give them a distraction, something to do while he died of embarrassment. Peck his leg off, or something. 

With quick, nervous motions, El signed, _It is?_

It was hard to say exactly what pushed Erik to be honest. Maybe the sea, beating away at the shore in all its steady, rhythmic intensity, or the intense bravery of the second pigeon that arrived within one foot of the first, both of them fixated on a stray crumb. Either way, Erik gathered his courage and said, “Yeah, it’s good. I’m glad that you like it, because I like looking at you.”

A soft, sharp inhale from his left had Erik’s cheeks burning. 

“I hope that’s not too weird,” Erik muttered. 

El prodded his thigh until Erik turned to look at him, and then he shook his head very firmly, eyes shining. _Not weird,_ he signed, fast and happy. _I walk the long way through college to get to drama, just so I can bump into you. And I make S-E-R-E-N-A go to the vending machine near the smoking area in case you’re there. And you—you know my ice cream order off by heart, which is why I can never go in to ask for it. I like that you know it, and it makes me forget my words._ He seemed to be forgetting them now, judging by his flushed face and nervous smile. _Sorry. That was a lot._

“Don't be sorry. That was the nicest word vomit I’ve ever had aimed at me.”

El buried his head in his hands, blushing to the roots of his hair. Erik found himself chuckling through his dazed disbelief. This wasn’t what he was expecting when he woke up this morning, that was for sure. Mia was going to mock the shit out of him. 

“Shit, Mia!” Erik sprang off the bench, startling the pigeons into flight, and grimaced apologetically when El glanced up with wide eyes. “Sorry, I have to pick up my little sister. She stayed longer at the beach today because I was working late, and we have to get home for tea. If I’m not there soon, she’ll hunt me down and beat me with her flip-flops.”

El got to his feet slowly, nodding. He didn't say anything as Erik checked his phone, and he didn't seem inclined to bring up any of the stuff that they’d just admitted to. He didn't seem upset. But Erik had an awful feeling that if he let the silence carry on, if he didn't address the big weird elephant on the bench, then he wouldn’t get this moment back. Maybe something similar, later on, but not this moment. 

And Erik dearly wanted this moment. 

“Hey,” Erik said, before pausing. El’s hesitant, curious stare made him push through. “I’m not working tomorrow.”

He immediately slouched into his hoodie like a cranky turtle, but El’s laughter brought his eyes back up. His eyes were all crinkled, and he had that pretty smile plastered all over his face. 

_We could go out tomorrow. If you want to. If you like the beach, there’s surfing, or S-Y-L-V has a boat._

Erik folded his arms, still slouching. “Eugh. Rich people.”

El’s smile gentled. _Or we could do something else, just the two of us. If you want._

Something vast and hopeful swelled in Erik's chest. He felt like he'd been pumped full of air, or sunlight, like he was lighter than feathers. Erik swallowed thickly. He wanted, very much. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They stood, staring at each other, shy smiles demanding to be seen. 

Erik cleared his throat. “Nowhere with ice cream, though.”

*

They hadn’t kissed yet. Erik wanted to, but everywhere he went there were a bunch of clowns pretending to be El’s friends, or his gremlin of a sister--or once, hiding behind menus and giggling obnoxiously, his foster parents.

Not to mention, every time he thought about it, a few more of his remaining brain cells fell down in a dead faint. He was rapidly running low. 

Erik’s gaze caught on the thin curve of El’s bottom lip. He wasn’t a shy person. He was a go-getter. He didn't let things like nerves and irritating friends get the best of him. He licked his own lips and turned sharply away when El glanced at him. 

Hurriedly, he bent to pull off his sandals, digging his toes in the soft, hot sand. The beach was fairly empty that evening, the air finally turning cool, and they were dragging behind their friends. Jade kept swivelling around to shoot them knowing looks, although she seemed mostly caught up in Serena. 

Erik picked up his sandals, scuffed some of the sand with his toes, and stood upright. 

El’s mouth landed neatly on the corner of his. It was a dry, chaste kiss that had him stumbling until El caught him, snickering. 

“I—You—”

El let go of him, eyebrows raised innocently, so that he could sign, _Is that what you wanted?_

Erik narrowed his eyes. “Nearly.”

Under his intense stare, El flushed. It was his turn to look away, biting his lip to hide a grin as he stared out at the sea. Erik didn't mind; it gave him ample room to look his fill. They kept on walking, leaving lines in the silky sand, and eventually Erik leaned in and brushed his lips against El’s cheek. 

He pulled away, softness still clinging to his mouth, and smiled slowly at the look in El’s eye. They leaned back in. 

“You’re both disgusting!” Veronica shouted, sounding cheery. They jerked apart to find her walking backward, a wicked smirk on her face. “If you don't hurry up, I’ll push you off the yacht when we finally get on it.”

“Can’t believe I’m friends with someone who owns a yacht,” Erik muttered under his breath. 

“Aw, honey! You’re finally admitting we’re friends?” Sylv skipped ahead, kicking up sand and pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “That’s so sweet! I knew this day would come.”

“Fuck off, Sylv!”

El laughed that sea-stained laugh and grabbed his hand. Another kiss landed on the back of his hand, and Erik held on very tightly. He knew that he wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I could feel this growing into a much bigger story that went into Erik's college life/adoption/past/emotional growth, and the smashing of his and El's worlds together as their relationship grew, but I squeezed it into a oneshot instead. I can always write more and make it a series, if the feeling strikes! But I hope you liked this, if you made it this far! Thank you so much! <3


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